"I see. Circuits to Wasington State have been--"
"Shit. I'm at MAdison 60042. Will you--"
"I'll try your call now, sir."
Jack hung up. Forty seconds by the wall clock--_bbring brinng_.
"Vincennes."
"Deputy Warden Cahill at McNeil. This pertains to a homicide?"
Hilda Lefferts was pouting--Jack turned away from her. "Yeah, and all I need's one answer. Got a pencil?"
"Of course."
"Okay. I need to know if a white male named Dean Van Gelder, that's two separate words on the last name, visited an inmate at McNeil say from February through April 1953. All I need's a yes or no and the names of any inmates he visited."
A sigh. "All right, please hold. This may take a while."
Jack held counting minutes--Cahill came back on at twelve plus. "That's a positive. Dean Van Gelder, DOB 3/4/2 1, visited inmate David Goldman on three occasions: 3/27/53, 4/1/53 and 4/3/53. Goldman was at McNeil on tax charges. Perhaps you've heard--"
Work in Davey G.--Mickey Cohen's man. Work in Van Gelder's last visit--two weeks before the Nite Owl, the same time the Englekling brothers lubed Mickey--the meet where they spilled the smut plan. The prison man kept babbling--Jack hung up on him. The Nite Owl case started to shake.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Ed drove Lynn Bracken home, a last shot before having her arrested. She protested, then went along: her day of truth dope, counterdope and browbeating showed--she looked frazzled, exhausted. Call her smart, strong and chemically fortified; she gave up nothing but Pierce Patchett crumbs--however she managed it. Patchett knew a whitewash wouldn't wash; Lynn funneled out her call girl tale--and Patchett had to have lawyers waiting in case that crumb went to indictments. Reopening day one was pure insane: Dudley Smith up in Gaitsville while his hot dogs shook down Darktown; Vincennes' body under the house and his ID on Dean Van Gelder--Davey Goldman's McNeil visitor pre--Nite Owl. Bud White for a runner, then his _Whisper_ leak breaking--he was a fool to trust him for a second. All of that he could take: he was a professional detective used to dealing with chaos.
But the Atherton case and his father circuiting in was something else. Now he felt suspended, one simple instinct running him: the Nite Owl had a life past any detective's volition--and the will to make its horror known whether he was there to probe evidence or not, whether he was capable of forming plans or just hanging on for the ride.
He had a plan to work Bracken and Patchett.
Lynn blew smoke rings out the window. "Down two blocks and turn left. You can stop there, I'm right near the corner."
Ed braked short. "One last question. At the Bureau you implied that you knew Patchett and Sid Hudgens were planning to work an extortion racket."
"I don't recall endorsing that statement."
"You didn't dispute it."
"I was tired and bored."
"You endorsed it, implicitly. And it's in Jack Vincennes' deposition."
"Then perhaps Vincennes lied about that part. He used to be quite a celebrity. Wouldn't you also call him quite a selfdramatist?"
An opening. "Yes."
"And do you think you can trust him?"
Fake chagrin oozing. "I don't know. He's my weak point."
"So there you are. Mr. Exley, are you going to arrest me?"
"I'm beginning to think it wouldn't do any good. What did White say when he told you to come in for questioning?"
"Just to come clean. Did you show him Vincennes' deposition?"
The truth--make her grateful. "No."
"I'm glad, because I'm sure it's full of lies. Why didn't you show it to him?"
"Because he's a limited detective, and the less he knows the better. He's also a protégé of a rival officer on the case, and I didn't want him passing information to him."
"Are you speaking of Dudley Smith?"
"Yes. Do you know him?"
"No, but Bud speaks of him often. I think he's afraid of him, which means that Smith must be quite a man."
"Dudley's brilliant and vicious to the core, but I'm better. And look, it's late."
"Can I give you a drink?"
"Why? You spat in my face today."
"Well, given the circumstances."
Her smile made his smile easy. "Given the circumstances, one drink."
Lynn got out of the car. Ed watched her move: high heels, a shit day--but her feet hardly touched the ground. She led him to her building, unlocked the bottom door and hit a light.
Ed walked in. Exquisite--the fabrics, the art. Lynn kicked off her shoes and poured brandies; Ed sat on a sofa--pure velvet.
Lynn joined him. Ed took his drink, sipped. Lynn warmed the glass with her hands. "Do you know why I invited you in?"
"You're too inteffigent to try to wrangle a deal, so I'll guess you're just curious about me."
"Bud hates you more than he loves me or anyone else. I'm beginning to see why."
"I don't really want your opinion."
"I was leading up to a compliment."
"Some other time, all right?"
"I'll change the subject then. How's Inez Soto handling the publicity? She's been all over the papers."
"She's taking it poorly, and I don't want to talk about her."
"It galls you that I know so much about you. You don't have information to compete."
Move the wedge. "I have Vincennes' deposition."
"Which I suspect you doubt the truth of."
Throw the change-up. "You mentioned that Patchett financed some early Raymond Dieterling films. Can you elaborate on that?"
"'Why? Because your father is associated with Dieterling? You see the disadvantages of being the son of a famous man?"
No hink, a deft touch with the knife. "Just a policeman's question."
Lynn shrugged. "Pierce mentioned it to me in passing several years ago."
The phone rang--Lynn ignored it. "I can tell you don't want to talk about Jack Vincennes."
"I can tell you do."
"I haven't seen much in the news about him lately."
"That's because he flushed everything he had down the toilet. _Badge of Honor_, his friendship with Miller Stanton, all of it. Sid Hudgens getting murdered didn't help, since _Hush-Hush_ owed half its filth to Vincennes' shakedowns."
Lynn sipped brandy. "You don't like Jack."
"No, but there's part of his deposition that I believe absolutely. Patchett has carbons of Sid Hudgens' private dirt files, including a carbon of a file on Vincennes himself. You can do yourself some good by acknowledging it."
If she bit she'd start now.
"I can't acknowledge it, and the next time we speak I'll have a lawyer. But I can tell you that I think I know what such a file would contain."
First wedge in place. "And?"
"Well, I think the year was 1947. Vincennes got involved in a gunfight at the beach. He was under the influence of narcotics and shot and killed two innocent people, a husband and wife. My source has verification, including the testimony of an ambulance deputy and a notarized statement from the doctor who treated Jack for his wounds. My source has blood test results that show the drugs in his system and testimony from eyewitnesses who didn't come forth. Is that information you'd suppress to protect a brother officer, Captain?"
The Malibu Rendezvous: Trashcan's glory job. The phone rang--Lynn let it go. Ed said, "Jesus Christ," no need to fake.
"Yes. You know, when I read about Vincennes I always thought he had some very dark reasons for persecuting dope users, so I wasn't surprised when I found that out. And, Captain? If Pierce did have file carbons, I'm sure he would have destroyed them."
Her last bit rang fake--Ed played a lie off it. "I know Jack loves dope, it's been a rumor around the Bureau for years. And I know you're lying about the files and I know Vincennes would do anything to get his file back. You and Patchett shouldn't underestimate him."